Seeking Universal Prayer ~ The Spirit of the Liturgy: A Lenten Book Club

As promised — and I do believe, in keeping with the mission of this blog, which is to talk about what we want to talk about — we will read The Spirit(s) of the Liturgy as a little book club together this Lent. I will post here exactly as I would talk to you about it if we were together. Please add your questions and comments!

I’ll post on Fridays. I’ll give you your homework, I’ll talk about what we read, we’ll discuss in the comments. You can do this study at any point, but if you want to stay current and join in the convo, that’s how it will go.

I shall tell of the secrets of the past.
All that we have heard and know –
all that our fathers told us –
we shall not hide it from their descendants,
but will tell to a new generation
the praise of the Lord, and his power,
and the wonders that he worked.

In my introduction to this study I used the word preference. I would say that most of us think of the question of how we worship as very much a matter of preference.

There is another factor going into our inclinations as well, having to do with temperament. Have you ever noticed that some forms of expression really appeal to certain temperaments, and that further, some positions in society are more likely to be filled by people of a certain temperament than others? (Thinking especially of the positions of liturgical director, religious education director, youth minister… all those who affect how we — and our children — worship. )

Much of what any of us today — Protestant, Roman Catholic (not excluding Traditionalists), Jewish (other than Orthodox I think, but I could be wrong), and for all I know even other faiths as well — experience when we worship has to much to do with the temperament of some people being inflicted on the rest.

And that is because we live in a time of the ascendency and even triumph of preference — when what matters is not to do what is right, but to do the will of our own selves or (what we forget in our pride) whoever can impose it — that is, that those with power, even if it’s just the power of their personality, not to put too fine a point on it, get their way.

This chapter is about how the Liturgy* is and must be about something other than will, emotion, or preference; and, when allowed to be what it is, corrects the (very necessary) differences in temperament and emphasis that we will always find in any human undertaking. It corrects and rises above because it is more than human — it is Divine. As a gift, it was not thrown down, whole and entire, from heaven, but arose by the workings of the Holy Spirit according to its nature as worship, as Guardini says at the beginning of the book, precisely from the Church (and that will be further elaborated in Ratzinger’s Spirit of the Liturgy, so hold on).

*In these writings, “the Liturgy” means “the Mass” and also “the Divine Office,” also called “the Liturgy of the Hours.” It also refers to the Liturgical Year. “The Sacred Liturgy” is the Mass. When Guardini is speaking of prayer here, he is not speaking of devotions or private prayer unless he says so.

There is a very simple reason why liturgy must be universal — not an expression of one temperament or style or preference, but appealing to all and able to speak to every person. If it’s worship of God, then no one can be left out, since to worship is to be human, not a certain kind of human.

Universality is the topic of this chapter. Guardini starts with what I imagine might be for many an unsettling statement of the goal of worship:

The primary and exclusive aim of the liturgy is not the expression of the individual’s reverence and worship for God. It is not even concerned with the awakening, formation, and sanctification of the individual soul as such.

Got your attention?

Nor does the onus of liturgical action and prayer rest with the individual. It does not even rest with the collective groups, composed of numerous individuals, who periodically achieve a limited and intermittent unity in their capacity as the congregation of a church. The liturgical entity consists rather of the united body of the faithful as such — the Church — a body which infinitely outnumbers the mere congregation.

The liturgy is the Church’s public and lawful act of worship, and it is performed and conducted by the officials whom the Church herself has designated for the post — her priests. In the liturgy God is to be honored by the body of the faithful, and the latter is in its turn to derive sanctification from this act of worship. It is important that this objective nature of the liturgy should be fully understood.

Here the Catholic conception of worship in common sharply differs from the Protestant, which is predominatingly individualistic. The fact that the individual Catholic, by his absorption into the higher unity, finds liberty and discipline, originates in the twofold nature of man, who is both social and solitary.

He briefly touches on “devotion” (personal prayer) and says this again about liturgy, that it is “the entirely objective and impersonal method of prayer practiced by the Church as a whole.”

And it’s this — the idea of “objective and impersonal prayer” that we are going to examine in these works. Despite the difficulty (and believe me, this is hard, because what I most want to do is read every single line of this work out loud with you while pouring all my thoughts out and hearing yours as well), we just have to get to the bottom of why this man* would say this — this seemingly alien and even grating declaration that shakes the foundations of what most of us find our conception of worship is, which is to do what feels very personal and which will excite certain feelings.

*Who is he? The most important fact about Romano Guardini that you need to know is that he was the mentor of Joseph Ratzinger, who became Pope Benedict XVI of course, and one of the most influential, you might say, of the liturgical reformers who resisted the “liberal” tendencies of the Vatican II era — yet he also resisted the rigidity of neo-Scholasticism. Keep in mind as we read that he wrote this in 1918. His work consists in taking on the theological and philosophical danger of Modernism.

In fact, liturgy threatens, in this time where “will” reigns, to become the meeting of a kind of club, to which only those of the same “style” can belong. That the styles are broadly disseminated and seem widely popular (and even have names) has more to do with the means of communication we enjoy than with their resonance with what is objective or fitting. And we never ask by what authority we choose our own way of doing things.

Continuing to read, we are quickly brought to another stark assertion, so contrary to our prevailing notions:

The first and most important lesson which the liturgy has to teach is that the prayer of a corporate body must be sustained by thought. The prayers of the liturgy are entirely governed by and interwoven with dogma. Those who are unfamiliar with liturgical prayer often regard them as theological formula, artistic and didactic, until on closer acquaintance they suddenly perceive and admit that the clear-cut, lucidly constructed phrases are full of interior enlightenment…

… This is not, of course, an attempt to deny that the heart and the emotions play an important part in the life of prayer. Prayer is, without a doubt, “a raising of the heart to God.” But the heart must be guided, supported, and purified by the mind.

I don’t have access to the original German and I don’t read German anyway, but I am going to be bold and say that these words, “thought” and “mind,” might also be translated as “reason.” The ancients held that man by nature is a rational animal, and St. Thomas Aquinas taught that “the essence of happiness consists in an act of the intellect” [Summa Theological I, II, 3, 4] — not the will. Aquinas expressly rejects the notion that our ultimate happiness (beatitude) is the result of an act of the will, that in fact, to think so would be to fail to grasp the essence of human nature.

Participation in the ultimate act of man in which he is promised happiness, the Sacred Liturgy, must be primarily a matter of reason, not of emotion (although of course emotion, as Guardini says, is there).*

*For a wonderful companion read (I know, I know, sorry!) that elucidates this idea I’ve compacted (violently) here, I recommend Josef Pieper’s Happiness and Contemplation. Pieper was also a student of Guardini.

What is the result of not worshiping according to thought, dogma, truth, and respect for “interior enlightenment”? Really read this part of the chapter carefully, and consider whether you have experienced what he points to — emotion not “purified by the mind”:

If the content of these devotional forms is of a predominatingly emotional character, it will bear the stamp of its fortuitous [random] origin… Such a prayer therefore will always be unsuitable if it does not [happen to] harmonize, to a certain degree at least, with the disposition of the person who is to offer it. Unless this condition is complied with, either it is useless or it may even mar the sentiment experienced.

The person organizing the prayer or organizing the service, if he departs from the objective character it ought to have, might strike upon a way that resonates with some. And if they are of corresponding temperament, they may make their satisfaction known — and it’s hard, very hard, to argue with someone’s good experience.

But those who are unmoved or who find even that what emotion they had was quenched, not nourished, by the expression, may simply walk away or may never be moved to join in the first place. That is, we might receive feedback about how a particular form of prayer pleased some; we will not have much, if any, of those who weren’t touched.

If, however, religious thought is to do justice to its mission [which, remember, is worship of God, not pleasing some people], it must introduce into prayer truth in all its fullness.

Various individual truths of Revelation hold a special attraction for the temperaments and conditions to which they correspond. It is easy to see that certain people have a pronounced predilection for certain mysteries of faith. This is shown in the case of converts, for instance, by the religious ideas which first arrested their attention at their entry into the Church, or which decided them on the step they were taking, and in other cases by the truths which at the approach of doubt form the mainstay and buttress of the whole house of faith. In the same way doubt does not charge at random, but attacks for the most part those mysteries of faith which appeal least to the temperament of the people concerned.

So, key learning here:

Approach blog posts, essays, and articles that trumpet The ONE Thing You Need to Know About Lent or Five Things To Do This Advent or Ten Important Things about God, with caution. It’s not that they can’t be helpful — very often they are. But they will invariably leave something out, something important. Often the authors are unaware that they are leaving anything out, which is dangerous.

For that matter, a bit above Guardini had said, “The same thing occurs when a form of prayer intended for a particular purpose is considered to be adapted to the most varied occasions.”

I’ve been to Lenten Masses where the same psalm was intoned week after week. There are some who are so in love with one virtue (gratitude, for instance) that they consider it the universal key to every possible human experience.

But this is not what the liturgy teaches us. Any Psalm is true. It is the Word of God. A virtue is good. But the liturgy takes us through every Scripture — not only the ones that appeal to us. It challenges every kind of person to grow in the virtue he needs at that time, not only the one I might happen to be attracted to now, or that He wants for me. Even those who love structure, tradition, and discipline will find a challenge in the liturgy at the propitious moment, meant for the quiet recesses of their hearts, if we let it speak its language of universality.

Now, again, keeping in mind that this was written a century ago:

If a prayer therefore stresses any one mystery of faith in an exclusive or an excessive manner, in the end it will adequately satisfy none but those who are of a corresponding temperament, and even the latter will eventually become conscious of their need of truth in its entirety. For instance, if a prayer deals exclusively with God’s mercy, it will not ultimately satisfy even a delicate and tender piety, because this truth calls for its complement — the fact of God’s justice and majesty. In any form of prayer, therefore, which is intended for the ultimate use of a corporate body, the whole fullness of religious truth must be included.

Here, too, the liturgy is our teacher. It condenses into prayer the entire body of religious truth. Indeed, it is nothing else but truth expressed in terms of prayer…

… It is only such an overwhelming abundance of truth which can never pall, but continue to be, day after day, all things to all men, ever fresh and inexhaustible.

The rest of this section on truth bears careful reading, and I will leave that to you.

But I want to be sure to touch on Guardini’s thoughts on emotion in the liturgy.

He says, “Liturgical emotion is controlled and subdued.” In our time, a time marked by abandonment of reason in favor of the will (and we will discuss why later), our goal has indeed become to seek an experience of emotion that is uncontrolled and anything but subdued.

But — seeking fulfillment through emotion leads to manufactured emotion.

So we are really going to learn something here about “a sense of restraint in the liturgical form.”

The restraint characteristic of the liturgy is at times very pronounced–so much so as to make this form of prayer appear at first as a frigid intellectual production, until we gradually grow familiar with it and realize what vitality pulsates in the clear, measured forms.

And how necessary this discipline is! At certain moments and on certain occasions it is permissible for emotion to have a vent. But a prayer which is intended for the everyday use of a large body of people must be restrained. If, therefore, it has uncontrolled and unbalanced emotion for a foundation, it is doubly dangerous. It will operate in one of two ways. Either the people who use it will take it seriously, and probably will then feel obliged to force themselves into acquiescence with an emotion that they have never, generally speaking, experienced, or which, at any rate, they are not experiencing at that particular moment, thus perverting and degrading their religious feeling.Or else indifference, if they are of a phlegmatic temperament, will come to their aid; they then take the phrases at less than their face value, and consequently the word is depreciated.

Guardini speaks of this beautiful expression prayed in the Divine Office: “Sober inebriation.”

In these two words we see the perfect uniting of the two elements of our nature, the mind and the heart. We understand that when we worship aright, we won’t lose ourselves in some atavistic thrumming dissolution of our very selves into the abyss. Nor will we frigidly remain at the foot of the mountain we can never hope to ascend. God has something else in mind for us.

And it’s not only in the emotions that the liturgy is restrained. Morality too is expressed with reservation: “The liturgy is very cautious,” he says. Again Guardini identifies the extremes. Think on the one hand of the “love and do what you will” crowd who want never to mention a Commandment yet are continually exhorting the faithful to do certain good works (or participate in certain programs), and on the other the ones who want every sermon and prayer to be about specific moral issues.

In moments of exaltation and in the hour of decision such a manner of speech [specifically mentioning moral actions] may be justified, and even necessary. But when it is a question of the daily spiritual life of a corporate body, such formulas, when frequently repeated, offer those who are using them an unfortunate selection from which to make their choice.

Perhaps they take the formulas literally and endeavor to kindle the moral sentiments expressed in them, discovering later that it is often difficult, and sometimes impossible, to do so truthfully and effectually. They are consequently in danger of developing artificial sentiments, of forcing intentions that still remain beyond their compass, and of daily performing moral actions, which of their very nature cannot be frequently accomplished. Or else they take the words merely as a passing recommendation of a line of conduct which it would be well to adopt, and in this way depreciate the intrinsic moral value of the formula, although it may be used frequently, and in all good faith.

In this connection are applicable the words of Christ, “Let your speech be yea, yea,–nay, nay.”

This chapter is full of ideas. Other than the last chapter, I think this is as long as my posts will be for this book. So sorry if you’ve made it this far — you are the best! I think we could spend all year, actually, just on this one chapter! Ponder how it ends:

Prayer must be simple, wholesome, and powerful. It must be closely related to actuality and not afraid to call things by their names. In prayer we must find our entire life over again. [So you can see why it might have to take a year to complete the cycle of prayer… the Liturgical Year. And then a lifetime of praying those years.] On the other hand, it must be rich in ideas and powerful images, and speak a developed but restrained language; its construction must be clear and obvious to the simple man, stimulating and refreshing to the man of culture. It must be intimately blended with an erudition which is in nowise obtrusive, but which is rooted in breadth of spiritual outlook and in inward restraint of thought, volition, and emotion.

And lest we get a panic attack thinking of how we will bring all this about, he ends by assuring us:

And that is precisely the way in which the prayer of the liturgy has been formed.

Related

Comments

Wow, this is really wonderful stuff. I admittedly only made my way through half of chapter 1, but I fully intend to finish it over the weekend (hopefully!). You provided an excellent synopsis, complete with very helpful explanations. And, I agree, we could discuss this one chapter for quite some time. There is so much to learn and discuss on this topic, and it feels like we have only pulled off one skin of one layer of the onion. I took your advice to mark in the book (I just printed the free copy from the ewtn link you provided), and I found myself wanting to highlight every other sentence. The things that struck me the most (so far)……I love the sense of balance he shows in this chapter. That communal worship and personal prayer are a both/and kind of thing, thus each require a different, yet complimentary, approach. Also, that we need to know exactly what our purpose, standards, and foundations of worship and prayer should be, before we start in with the exceptions and personal preferences.

sooooo much for me to ponder… at the moment i am just marveling over how very often the liturgy (in the hours or the mass) speaks so directly to me, but it never occurred to me that its very variation and structure are designed to do so, and to everyone else at the same time…

“The primary and exclusive aim of the liturgy is not the expression of the individual’s reverence and worship for God. It is not even concerned with the awakening, formation, and sanctification of the individual soul as such.”

Why, yes, that did get my attention right off the bat! Two years ago, I was leading an RCIA group and speaking about the liturgy of the Mass. I mentioned what Fr. (now Bishop) Robert Barron replies when he is told “I don’t go to Mass because I don’t get anything out of it.” He says, “It’s not about you, it’s about worshipping God!” That was, hands down, the most controversial statement I made to that group of eight 20 and 30-somethings. They wanted to know why they would even go to church if it didn’t make them feel good or do something for them.

I’m really enjoying this. The text is just challenging enough for me, and your insights are wonderful. I really felt freed, in a sense, by his words on emotion. When I was Protestant, all around me people would be singing with the arms up in the air and oozing with emotion. I didn’t feel it. I don’t have that temperament. I was always stuck with the dilemma of whether to just stand there looking cold and emotionless, or to fake it and awkwardly raise my arms in the air. (99% of the time I just stood there). There is so much wisdom and beauty in the liturgy and no need to fabricate false emotions. The depth of intelligence in every aspect of the Catholic Church continues to amaze me.

I am a former Protestant too, and I always thought there was a great danger in that very emotional style of singing praise and worship songs. The people become absorbed in feeling — “What am I feeling? Am I feeling enough? She looks more emotional than I do. Do people think I don’t love Jesus? I meant it more the first time we sang it. That woman looks pretty “moved,” but is she sincere? Why doesn’t my husband put his hands up? That lady’s husband does…” And of course, “Well, anyone can see Catholics are just going through the motions — there’s no feeling at all.”
Of course, not all Protestants think these things, and maybe the same thing can happen at Mass; however, the focus is just so different. Like Mrs B said so perfectly, “we’re made bigger than ourselves” and “saved from our own limited preferences.”

I really appreciated what Guardini said about the level of reserve in the liturgy. There are spiritual matters that should remain private. Of course there are! Trying to move people just because you feel they haven’t been moved in a while, trying to draw them out, make them cry, it all feels a little disrespectful. How many men do not attend church because it’s just so uncomfortable? The Mass is different. A man can worship and know that his interior life is not intruded upon by others. A teenager can worship alongside his parents without cringing, worrying about what they think he’s thinking. (Or maybe not — please tell me! I’ve never been a teenager at Mass with his parents.) Not that it is all about our level of comfort, but a universal prayer has to respect the individuals who offer it, right?

I haven’t read the whole chapter yet, and already I find some concepts to be beyond my intellectual abilities – and yet I know it doesn’t ultimately matter, because the Church has me covered. One thought flashed through my mind reading this post, especially the part about preferences, as I remembered something Ratzinger says in the other Spirit of the Liturgy: that the liturgy cannot be manufactured, literally man-made, or man places himself where God should be ( I think he mentions the golden calf episode as an example… sorry to jump books!) And it hit me how everything is marvelously connected, the Church proclaiming herself universal, the Church being the keeper of the liturgy, the Church being the Body of Christ… It hit me how trust in the Church is the hinge of everything. We don’t need to figure out everything on our own, and we don’t need to (shouldn’t…) reinvent the wheel every generation. We rest on the shoulders of a giant, the Church, to whom God entrusted the care of our souls.
And so, when I meet a difficult line in this book, I say a prayer of gratitude for the existence of the Church, who in her profound wisdom knows what I need, even when I don’t totally understand why. To some it may indeed look like Catholics surrender their brains. To me it’s more like this: by trusting the Church we’re made bigger than ourselves, Guardini might say we’re saved from our own limited preferences, because we enjoy the fruits of “what has been believed always, everywhere, by all”, as that beautiful expression goes.

Yes, Mrs. B: How dissatisfying would it be if we could encompass worship with our minds. Even Thomas Aquinas gave up!
I love when Guardini says it must be intelligent and simple, to appeal to all. The humblest intellect, the most towering intellect, doesn’t matter.

I did manage the whole chapter and although it is a little above my sleep deprived abilities I definitely got much out of it. What really struck me was the idea that the liturgy is for ALL people of all temperaments so must be suited to all. Thanks for doing this! Lots to ponder.

Leila, you are intrepidly digging at the root of what has so permeated our society and all our way of thinking and being – and I don’t exclude myself because how can you live in it and not be affected by it? I mean subjectivism and relativism. The question put by Pontius Pilate – “What is truth?” – is the question that I see and hear everywhere, more and more. But, in the same way that his question never seemed like a real one, he didn’t seem to be interested in knowing of an answer – modern society isn’t, either. It’s terrifying. But you, obviously, have hope for your fellow man, or you wouldn’t be doing this. Because it’s not just about your regular readers here.

I guess everyone was brought up short by the same passage – I was, too. As a serious Catholic, nothing in this chapter was foreign to me, but it’s another thing entirely to see it described as clearly as this.

It constantly strikes me that all of the statements of Guardini and of Ratzinger on the liturgy are ultimately already satisfied in a beautifully sung Tridentine Mass. After all, the Tridentine Mass was what Guardini knew as ‘the Mass’ when he wrote this in 1918! The Old Mass is given, not made; it is silent, and therefore gives a space into which we can enter; it is in a language we do not own, nor can we change; the readings are on a one-year cycle that is built on the cycle of nature, and the readings exist primarily to prepare for the sacrifice rather than to teach/familiarize us with a vast cross-section of scripture, (does anyone else experience in the new daily readings, a ‘tune-in next time” “as our story continues” effect that is somewhat jarring? :-)) and it already has music chosen and written for each day of the entire year! It took a long time (about two years) of singing in a Tridentine Mass Schola to experience some of the profound joy of hearing the same readings and chants each year. And the calendar! Don’t get me started! Instead of “Ordinary Time” the year is divided into the “Sundays after Epiphany” and the “Sundays after Pentecost”, so even without any teaching, you already are given this clear orientation toward making manifest the mysteries of Christmas and Easter. And the Christmas season is longer than Advent! (And, bonus! You can use the original Montessori Mass book and Trapp family stuff and Catechesis of the Good Shepherd and Sermons of the Church Fathers and and and….)
Sigh! So much of the ‘work’ of disposing oneself to the sacrifice about to take place is already done for you. It is my great hope that someday the liturgy will return to something more like the Tridentine Mass, and we can count our current post-conciliar liurgical crisis as a hiccup in the long line of tradition, like the Avignon Papacy or something!

” It is my great hope that someday the liturgy will return to something more like the Tridentine Mass, and we can count our current post-conciliar liurgical crisis as a hiccup in the long line of tradition, like the Avignon Papacy or something!”

Jana, I hear you.
Could not the fact that Guardini was writing well before Vatican II imply the opposite, though? That there was something that needed renewal in that Liturgy?
To all my dear friends who love the Extraordinary Form, I am going to gently suggest that you read without necessarily having the lens of Vatican II in hand to peer through. I admit that this is difficult for me to do. To me, the entire book is one long argument against the reforms that we ended up with. And certainly, Guardini and many of the others parted ways with the ones who took things in the wrong direction. Guardini famously said, “We are no liberals.” Yet he was a leader of the liturgical renewal.
You will find hints of what was actually happening “on the ground” with the Tridentine Mass by reading between the lines, especially the sections about devotions and regarding participation in the Mass and what form that would take (Ratzinger addresses this more squarely).
“It is of paramount importance that the whole gathering
should take an active share in the proceedings. If those
composing the gathering merely listen, while one of the
number acts as spokesman, the interior movement soon
stagnates.”

Frankly, I don’t agree that everything was fine and should have stayed as it was. My studies of these books and also — must reading — the encyclical Mediator Dei of Pius XII (which is heavily influenced by Guardini, who in turn was heavily influenced by Pius X!) — make it clear to me that some reform was needed.

I completely and wholeheartedly — and with tears of frustration — agree that what we got was not it.

I am sure there was need for renewal well before Vatican II, as there always is. Jana can answer for herself, but I don’t pine for long-gone days when everything was perfect. I wasn’t even there, so what do I know. I am simply lamenting that, as you say, we got something that was not what was needed, as many who were there said and keep saying.

Vatican II isn’t even the problem – Pius XII had been reforming things already, and my guess is that the Council was supposed to continue in that direction. Then somehow the changes to the Mass (and even physical changes to our churches!) under Paul VI gave us something wholly different from before, something the Council never even called for.

I’m afraid the sudden changes wounded the Church, and in this sense I agreed with what Jana wrote: that it’s important to be in line with Tradition, not in the sense of always doing what we’re used to, but to keep on the right path, without straying in the wrong direction.

To me it seems that the Tridentine Mass gets something right about the liturgy, the Church, our priests, and ourselves, that the Mass of Paul VI does not, and this is why I hope we’ll soon see the liturgy go back to that kind of understanding. I didn’t mean to imply nothing should ever change. But since the liturgy is something bigger than ourselves and surpassing our understanding, as we were saying, let’s be careful and humble with the changes, and approach them with a spirit of love, as I’m sure Guardini and Ratzinger did, not with a spirit of pride and pettiness.

I am in my early 30s and a cradle Catholic. I admit I really, really do not understand what Vatican II did to the Mass, what other forms look like, etc. I am driving-adverse and have a house of young children so traveling to see for myself is not ideal for me right now. Do you know of any resources to summarize the differences?

Well, I’ll bet you could find the Tridentine Mass on youtube – I’m guessing, but everything else under the sun is there. :) Just a few minutes of watching will give you the idea without having to see the whole thing. You will see a railing up front before the altar area, with pads where the faithful would all KNEEL (imagine that!) to receive. If you attend a church which was built before Vatican II, you may have an extra altar way behind where your altar is, up against the back wall? That would be the original one; the priest would face in that direction and say the Mass.

I’m 60, but even so I don’t remember it. But some folks I used to go places with several years ago preferred that Mass, and would try to attend when they could. After a few years of thinking that it was the better way, and things shouldn’t have changed, and that Vatican II was a mistake, I went with them. How surprised I was – I did not like it. For those who love it, please excuse me, but I thought it was a dinosaur. I did what you’re not supposed to do during Mass – I said the rosary! Had to do something, and going back and forth in the book in another language was too much confusion for me. That cured me of my supposing that we should go back to the way it was before. The way it’s done now could stand lots of improvement, but going backward is not the answer; you can’t go back, anyway.

I am aware that the idea of a common language for the Mass is wonderful, so that it’s familiar wherever you go, but I don’t even know how I would like that now, after all this time with the English. For several years in our parish, we went to a Mass in Polish, and while I miss the nicer hymns, I am glad to be saying and hearing it in my own language. I don’t know what the solution is, but the Holy Spirit does – He has to sort it out! :)

I agree with these ideas, I think. Especially (!) the last bit! That seemed to me to be a big point Guardini was making in the beginning of this chapter, that things that were bad would eventually show themselves to be bad, and all would be sorted out in the end. (Of course, this leads to you into the next discussion, a discussion that seems to come up everywhere, whether you’re discussing liturgy or letting God be in control of your life or anything else, and that’s how to balance it so that you don’t step out completely and take a totally passive role, which would be irresponsible, I suppose, and how to not assume that everything depends on us, and therefore overrepresent our importance.) But it seems like if you start with what you can, in your home and your parish, like is being suggested in a number of ways on this site and which make themselves evident otherwise, that that’s all you can do.

As to the Tridentine versus Novus Ordo (am I getting my terms right?), I personally didn’t see any affirmation from this chapter for one or the other (obviously he won’t have known about what we have going on now), it seems like guidelines for any type, and I would also assume that he wouldn’t have called the Tridentine the ideal answer, as that’s almost what he had (yes?). I guess now I’m repeating ideas put by others in these comments in a much better way than I am now, so I’ll leave that at that, but I will say that I have a hard time accepting the argument that going back is the solution to all the ills.

Also! Also! Our parish, a newly built, modern place, with lots of the hymns that catch flack in more traditional circles, has switched to chant for at least Lent! So check it out, there’s hope! I think if you allow for the potential and work to realize it, more good might be done than you think! (This being said as someone who did not have anything to do with said changes and who can take no credit for them, but just as someone who appreciates the effort others have apparently put in)

Erin, this is a good website about the old Mass: http://sanctamissa.org/en/
They have a FAQ section on the right. The section called “Spirituality of the Tridentine Mass” is also going to help you.
I’ve never looked for a resource that compares old and new rites, so I can’t help with that.
The old rite takes some work on our part, because it’s not what we’re used to anymore, but I would think that is not a cause for discouragement: it’s all good learning about holy things!

Leila, thanks for the reply. I often hear about old ladies praying Rosaries at Mass (And sometimes I think, “Well, isn’t that better than simply sitting there?”) Ha ha! No, I do see what he is saying, but notice the qualifier there, “a beautifully sung” Mass. That’s a different experience than the Low Mass that many knew as “the Mass” in those days. (Interestingly, the “Low Mass” became the model for the “New Mass” effectively, with no sung propers, and four ‘seasonal’ hymns.) I agree with Mrs. B that there is no ideal time to go back to, however, I question whether Liturgical Renewal means the Liturgy must do the changing. Inspired by Guardini et alia, there was a movement afoot in the 1920s-50s for laypeople to learn to sing the chant, and Justine Ward’s wonderful method of teaching children to sing, was used even in some public schools! There was even the ‘Dialogue Mass’ of 1965 that seemed to fulfill just what the council had called for, why go further? I will never get why “Modern Man” is this monolithic person that has to be catered to with sweeping change. It seems as though Guardini points primarily to the hearts and minds of the people – it is we who must change!

Also, I should add that the new Mass gives many options which, if you took the best of each one, you would end up with an ad orientem, Latin Canon, sung propers, (Introit, Gradual, etc.) super-duper beautiful Novus Ordo Mass —-HOWEVER, the new Mass also gives many other options, (for instance the option is given to sing a Responsorial Psalm instead of the Gradual, or, as you pointed out, to sing the same Psalm for the entire season!) And I think we have seen that when options are given, most will choose the lesser. (Think casual Fridays at the office. Who is going to choose the suit and tie when he could wear a golf shirt? He may want to wear the suit and tie, but then he is making some kind of statement. This is precisely what I see today. At my parish, the Pastor has quietly made it known that the Communion rail is an ‘option’ for those who wish to receive kneeling, but then those taking the better of these two options are the guy in the suit and tie on casual Friday, you know? Awkward!) So again, the hope and prayer of my deepest heart is that the Spirit of the Liturgy that Guardini and Ratzinger so perceptively discern will return in its lived form here on earth, and subito!

All the options grate me as well: I’m afraid they are the reason why some priests decided it was no big deal to “improve” the texts of the Mass. I don’t understand the point of most of them, and I think they gradually made universality an irrelevant, forgotten characteristic of the liturgy.

Jana, I would be so astonished if most parishes didn’t default to the sort of lazy or “this is how we did it before” option, which is sad.
Again, I think this is why reading these books is so important. When we see the purpose behind each and every aspect of the Mass, it challenges us to be braver to say to the pastor, “let’s go ahead and make this the best it can be.”
I will say though — I will bring this up again later — I have seen everything done “just so, just right” and STILL there is a lack of the restraint and serenity that Guardini is speaking of here. There is a will-to-power, a sense of the liturgy as a tool of overmastering, that remains. I could point to the little things, choices, that make it so, but really, I attribute that fact to the modernistic attitude we can’t help approaching just about everything with. We are modernists — it’s in our blood like a virus. Very often we don’t notice it at all.
We have to go through some sort of purgation to know what it is to be still, to be receptive, to stop our striving when it needs to be stopped, to accept not being heard, to accept silence.
I can only think that Our Lady is the remedy, as she was perfect receptivity and tranquillity.
Again, more on this later.

I’m interested to hear what you will say on this. I have seen what you might call ‘self-conscious’ liturgy, but I do forgive that so readily! It takes a long time to be organic and serene about something that you have to re-introduce or re-build, or as you say “make this the best it can be.” We are in a strange time! Just like every other time! But different!

I enjoyed very much this first chapter, but I admit it is a challenging read. So many important ideas, every passage is important to understand his course of thought. Thinking that he wrote this in 1918, I do ask myself if he and I (a reader of 2016 who never participated in the pre-Vatican II Mass) have in mind the same thing when we consider Liturgy. Is the Liturgy of the Hours the same thing as the Divine Office in latin, for example? I confess my ignorance on the subject.
I pondered a lot his affirmation that “thought alone can keep spiritual life sound and healthy” as long as “it rests on the bedrock of truth”. And the other name of truth is dogma. Maybe some of the unobjective way of worship today comes from the fact that we don’t know the truth (as dogma) or we know it only in a very abstract way, without any connection with our circumstances and realities in the here and now.

Thank you for this!! In this time of “many littles” it is so tempting to avoid intellectual challenges. I am so grateful that you are here to pull me into a deeper understanding and appreciation for my faith.

Thank you, Leila. Btw, if you ever decide to read it line by line telling all your wonderful thoughts as you go, I for one will be happy to listen! If you have any suggestions for how to “survive” a parish that is doing almost none of these things, they would be much appreciated. I think the last two paragraphs are connected somehow…maybe people who crave moral sermons (probably because we never get anything of substance) would be satisfied with less if people didn’t use euphemisms so much, but described things accurately according to the truths of our faith.

Angelique, I do have some suggestions, such as they are, for improving things at one’s own parish. (It all starts with reading these books and “escaping preference”!). If you email me at leilamarielawler at gmail dot com I will send you the draft of a document I wrote to outline the steps.

About morality, Guardini’s point is that the morality is there built into the Mass. It will have its effect, carefully nurtured — in the same spirit — by the pastor in his sermons, which nevertheless must be circumspect, considering all the ages and conditions present at any Mass (or should be).

My hope would be that morality would be addressed at all! A sort of vague activism is hardly morality… and programs are not morality. Morality starts deep within, and we only grow in virtue and leave the path of sin in proportion to our closeness to Christ in His sacraments and in His Word.

We must have HIS virtue, and that’s not a matter of doing programs nor is it a matter of being harangued. So it’s not as easy as we think, and yet it’s much simpler!

I remembered something else that is relevant to this discussion. When the new translation of the Mass prayers came out a few years ago, our then-pastor (Fr Scalia!) did a series of talks to introduce the new texts to his parishioners. They turned out to be a wonderful series of lectures on the Mass itself. One of the things he said was that we’re not even supposed to understand everything of the Mass – we talk about the Sacred Mysteries for a reason. The Mass points to something other than ourselves, something that our minds cannot fully comprehend now. So this is the reason why a nice and neat liturgy, even predictable in our reactions to it, is the sign of something wrong. Not that liturgy should be abstruse or obscure – as Guardini says, it should be clear enough for the simple souls to recognize it for what it is. But the liturgy should always feel like we can’t fully grasp it, just as we can’t fully grasp the ways of God.

Dear readers, I won’t be able to reply to each comment, so I will say, “Silence equals consent!” Thank you so much for leaving a comment here!
Often a comment means consent also :)
Just maybe a little more to say about things…
I love your enthusiasm — it does me a world of good!

I see that you won’t be able to reply to everyone, but here’s hoping. :) So much of this I’m saying, “Yes! Yes!” In my head but never in a million years would have been able to articulate. Thank you! My question is related but also off topic. I know lots of families like us so here goes:

We’ve been “commuting” to the Anglican Use parish about 40 minutes away most Sundays. We’re new to that liturgy but are learning to love it. I’m also getting involved in starting a Sunday School Atrium there. On the Sundays we can’t get there we’ve been going to a closer Mass with good preaching, but the physical experience is rather kitschy, visually and musically. Children’s Liturgy we opt out of. Pretty standard in many ways, but overall still feels like a pretty good Mass. The parish that is actually our territorial parish, we almost never visit. (Children taking unpurified vessels and “washing the dishes” after Mass was it for me.)

Are we doing the right thing? With young children especially I feel like we need to give them the best liturgy we have access to, but on the other hand how will things change in those other places if we write them off? But going to an unedifying Mass week after week is very disheartening, Eucharistic grace notwithstanding! Please advise.

Oh, and “feels like a good Mass” is shorthand for “seems like it accomplishes what Guardini describes more or less.” Not, “A bit more to my taste than option C.” Still imprecise. But I’m not just being a snob, I swear. Guess I’d better keep reading.

Yes, I know what you mean… you are genuinely seeking what is best for your children and for you…
Always avoid the “children’s Mass”! Always try to go to the Mass that appeals to your husband.
Do you know what THE ONE PREDICTOR that anyone has ever isolated for whether children grow up to be church-goers?
That their father went to church.
If you have to drive 40 minutes, so be it. However, and it was probably at that very Ordinariate church you are speaking of, when I gave my talks there I told them point blank: No religious ed. on Sundays!
Sunday is a day of rest. Dad works hard all week. If Sunday is spent giving classes, driving to Mass, getting the kids from one event to another — there is no time left for the children to be with him. There is no time for family interaction. It’s one more busy day with a long commute thrown in.
If there is a way to influence the reverence of a Mass closer, then do your best to do it. If not, then what can you do?
I agree that you shouldn’t take the children where there are outright violations of not only the law but the spirit of, well, the liturgy :)

Thank you for your response! It is definitely my husband who is most affected by which Mass we attend.

About the Sunday Atrium… I appreciate your point about what Sunday should be. But with most people in the parish being far away, if we don’t have it on Sundays it may not happen at all. That’s a tough one. Right now we’re thinking to have it between the Masses to minimize running around. This is Baltimore, by the way. Sorry to have missed you if you were there! :)

Mary, oh, no, it wasn’t Baltimore.
I understand the arguments for Sunday catechism. But they are not good ones.
Sunday is for rest. Worship, rest, celebration.
It is better to have no catechesis than to have it on Sunday.
But, if you don’t have it on Sunday, you will find a way to have it another day, because you will realize it doesn’t have to be at a church. The parents who live close to each other can go over the catechism with the children, simply, during the week.
Know that we are ruining our children with this running around, activity, and disruption of the Sunday!

I would love to join in, though I’m late. We have many good things in our diocese such as perpetual Eucharistic adoration and a large number of seminarians, but the music at Mass is sometimes subpar. We sing a mixture of traditional hymns and newfangled claptrap. A few months ago I took a visiting Orthodox friend to Divine Liturgy. It was sooooo beautiful. Truly heavenly. Mass should be beautiful, but sometimes the music is loud, obnoxious pop stuff. The music director thinks it is all fine. If it’s in the book, then it is allowed. I guess I am just a curmudgeoness.

Patty, if you can hold on, music is a HUGE issue that we will discuss in Ratzinger’s book.
Indeed, music is NOT merely a matter of preference, far from it. And there IS “a book” and it’s very particular about what KIND of music can be used in a liturgy!
If you are interested in reading a very good (and not super long) essay about the subject in the meantime (I’ll certainly be linking to it again), look at this by Paul Jernberg: http://www.catholicculture.org/commentary/articles.cfm?id=535

Thank you for the link to Paul Jernberg’s article in Catholic Culture. The recordings at the end of the article were full of beauty. I could actually sing those! I appreciate the smooth harmonies in these simply sung responses, AND the lack of musical instruments overpowering the voices.

Guardini wrote on page 8 of how the liturgy made it possible for us to express our inner life in fullness yet without divulging our “secretum meum mihi”. This sentence made me think of the prayer during mass when we are asking God’s forgiveness for “what we have done, and what we have failed to do”.

Guardini’s second paragraph on page 12 spoke to me of how a lack of fruitful and lofty culture causes the spiritual life to grow numb, artificial, and lifeless. I have often wondered if this is happening because people have not experienced lofty culture. But the more I talk to people, the more I ascertain their indifference. Could this be a part of the numbness?

Leila, thanks so much for this series! I’m starting late but I’m going to try to catch up. I love what you’ve written so far, even though a lot of it is over my (sleep-deprived) head!

I grew up in a Lutheran church, and Easter simply has not had the meaning that it did since I left that church for non-liturgical Protestant churches. I realized this week how badly I miss Lent! I want to return to at least a family practice of Lent and the liturgical year. I wonder if you or your readers could point me to any posts or books that would be a good introduction to how to introduce the liturgical year?? Would your book be a good place to start?

Yes, Diana, my book is exactly that!http://amzn.to/1L0ievM
Go to the menu bar and click on “liturgical living.” Just keep scrolling…
Also put in “living the liturgy” in the search bar. Basically, this blog is about that!
And keep reading with us!

This chapter gave structure to my thoughts of why I crave the Mass instead of the non-denominational churches I attended during my 20’s and 30’s. My temperament is emotional and energetic. My husband and I still miss the individualized corporate worship we participated in back then, however, the Mass offers a different kind of true worship of God Almighty that is not dependent on emotions. My prayer life is fuller and less “me” oriented these days. I appreciate the balance of mercy and justice, joy and sorrow, sacrifice, and humility. I pray for my friends who are still searching for a church. I don’t believe they can currently appreciate the fullness of the Catholic Church and Mass. My return to weekly and daily Mass was fueled by cancer and my need for Holy Communion. Thank God!
Thank you for suggesting this challenging book.

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"One who has hope lives differently." Pope Benedict XVI

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